


Close to the Bone

by Mordhena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: A continuation of events after Sam shot Madison at the end ofHeart
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 9





	Close to the Bone

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Tag scene for Heart S02E17 (Spoiler alert)  
> This is one of the first SPN fics I ever wrote. I found it buried amongst OLLLLD files on my computer and decided to archive it here.

The shot seemed to echo like no shot Dean had ever heard. It made him jump. He couldn't remember jumping at a gun-shot in years. He closed his eyes. This was no ordinary gun-shot.  
  
 _That could've been me, pulling that trigger. Might have been Sammy takin' that bullet._ Dean closed his eyes. _It's all too damn close to home, too close to the bone._ He lifted his head, hearing the slow tread of Sam's feet.  
  
Dean looked up, took in the tear stained face the quivering shoulders and the look of empty despair on his brother's face. He held out his hand, took the still warm pistol from Sam's grasp. Dean caught Sam as he fell-held him while he cried.  
  
"I've got you, Sammy. I've got you." He said over and over, like a mantra, like he still believed that he could make the bad things go away, like he still believed that he could find some way to protect his brother from the dark.  
  
The sun was well up by the time they left Madison's house. It was probably stupid to have stayed so long, but Sam wouldn't leave any sooner. He said he'd promised her he wouldn't go until the sun came up and there was no moving him until then.  
  
They drove away in silence. Sam looking back, twisted around in his seat until the impala rounded a corner at the end of the street and there was nothing more to see.  
  
Dean pulled over a block or two away. He cut the engine, hearing that shot again in his mind, so loud-so final. Something broke inside him and he bowed his head.  
  
"Where to now?" Sam's voice, small and tired. His dark eyes, empty, turned to Dean as though he still thought that Dean had all the answers, like he still believed that Dean could make it all right.

Dean had believed that, once. Still wanted to, but some tiny voice somewhere told him otherwise. He swallowed his doubt and tried to pretend.  
  
"I don't know." Dean said.  
  
How could Dean not know? Dean always knew where to go. He _always_ knew what to do. Sam looked away, stared into the rising sun.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Let's go," Dean said. "Get outta here." Dean swallowed, tasting fear in the back of his throat. "I dunno, Australia maybe. Bobby could get us good passports, birth certificates everything we need. I've got a little money put away. We could go away. Forget this life, forget..." He closed his eyes. _Forget_ _that tomorrow the next day-next month, I might have to put a bullet through your heart.'_

  
Sam looked at him. "There's a war coming, and we're part of it." Sam shook his head, leaned across, and kissed Dean's bloodless lips.  
  
"We don't have to be! This wasn't our-" He trailed off, letting Sam kiss him.  
  
Sam pulled away, looking into his brother's eyes, reading unfathomable depths of aching sadness in them.

"I don't want to lose you, Sammy," Dean said.

The words wrung Sam's heart until he wanted to scream.  
  
"Nothing's going to happen to me while you've got my back, Dean."  
  
Dean looked away. _I_ _don't wanna do this anymore, it's costing us too much._ He glanced at Sam. "So where are we going?"  
  
Lifting his chin, Sam drew a deep breath, the last tracks of tears dried and faded on his cheeks. "Hell." His voice rang with determination. "We're going to hunt that thing down and finish this once and for all."  
  
"Sam, it's-this is real, you know? I could have to kill you tomorrow." He gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled, reached for the keys and started the engine.  
  
"I know." Sam shook his head. "I suggest we pay Bobby a visit, safer than going to the roadhouse, we don't know which of them gave Gordon his information-we can trust Bobby."  
  
Dean gunned the engine peeling away from the curb and roaring along the street. He downshifted, pulling all the juice the impala could give. "All right," he said his voice so soft it was almost drowned by the engine.  
  
~fin~


End file.
